


a funeral and four weddings

by cleardishwashers



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018), Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Fake Character Death, Idiots in Love, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 19:30:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleardishwashers/pseuds/cleardishwashers
Summary: danny ocean is not dead. however, it's easier to have people think that he is.funeral #1 - danny oceanwedding #1 - tess and isabelwedding #2 - debbie and louwedding #3 - some asshole and some other assholewedding #4 - danny and rusty





	a funeral and four weddings

**FUNERAL #1 - DANNY OCEAN**

Apparently, when someone dies, they call the ex-wife and sister first, and then expect them to break the news to everybody else. The first person that both of them call is Rusty. Tess beats Debbie to the punch, and when Rusty picks up the phone, he hears a raw, distorted version of her voice. “Rusty,” she says, “Danny is- um-”

Everything clicks together in Rusty’s head at the speed of sound. “No, he’s not,” Rusty replies, keeping his voice level. “Must be fake. If he was, I’d know.”

Tess sniffles. “Mm-hmm. Okay. Uh- just, y’know, call. If you ever need anything.” And then the line goes dead.

Rusty stares down at the phone in his hand, and not two seconds later, it rings again. As soon as he picks it up, Debbie says, “Rusty, Danny’s-”

“Nope.”

“What the hell do you mean, ‘nope?’” Debbie sounds as close to desperate as Rusty’s ever heard, her voice rising hopefully at the end of her sentence.  _ Not much hope in prison, I guess, _ Rusty thinks.

“If he were dead, I’d know. Simple as that,” Rusty says.

“But you don’t know for sure.”

Rusty frowns. “95%.”

Debbie sighs. “Not a hundred.”

She hangs up, and Rusty listens to the dull beeping of the dial tone for a few seconds before disconnecting the call.

The next person takes almost ten minutes to call, which is enough time for Rusty to make and then devour a BLT- light on the lettuce, nonexistent on the tomato.  _ “What?” _ he mumbles.

Reuben’s voice comes through the speaker, a little hoarser than usual, saying, “Rusty, I just wanted to say how sorry-”

“Why does everyone start these calls by saying my name? I’m aware of who I am,” Rusty says. “And I’m also aware that he’s not dead.”

Reuben sighs his  _ I’ve Seen This Before And I Don’t Like How It Ends _ sigh. “You gotta accept it.”

“I’d  _ know, _ Reuben,” Rusty insists.

Reuben doesn’t push it. “Okay.”

It goes like that for a good few hours. Rusty doesn’t bother leaving the kitchen, seeing as he won’t be able to do anything without being interrupted by a ringing phone. By the time Basher calls, his voice tinged with drowsiness-  _ of course, it’s, like, five AM in England- _ Rusty’s confidence has cracked. Still, he’s gotta keep his faith in Danny- after all, Danny’s always had faith in him. So when Basher starts with, “Mate, I-” Rusty cuts him off.

“He’s still alive, Basher.” And then he hangs up. The weight of the day slowly descends on his shoulders even more. He sags onto the kitchen counter, resting his head on the cool marble. He craves the smooth bitterness of whiskey, but the only whiskey left is a bottle that Danny gave him, and he craves Danny’s smile even more.  _ God. What if- _

He cuts the thought off before he can internalize it.

“Buy you a drink, sailor?” an amused voice says from behind him.

Rusty knows the voice- he’s been hearing it since he was considerably younger and considerably blonder, and yet it’s like he’s hearing Danny for the first time. He suddenly can’t bring himself to turn around. “You’re an asshole.”

Danny sits down next to him, and even without turning his head, Rusty can see Danny’s blinding grin. It’s not the type he uses to charm or seduce or blackmail- it’s the type that he only lets out in private, after pulling a job, when the success finally sets in. “Y’know, I’ve heard that one a few times before.”

“You were quiet,” Rusty says, staring at the counter and trying to tamp down his own smile.

“Master thief, remember?”

Rusty wrenches his head to the side to take Danny in. His shirt is stained with blood, which Rusty desperately hopes isn’t his. He’s missing his suit jacket, and Rusty can see the beginnings of a bruise blossoming on his cheekbone. But he’s still grinning, with the same intensity that he had after the Bellagio heist. “What-” Rusty gestures at Danny. “Did someone set a pack of wolves on you?”

“Not quite, but I handled it like a champ.”

Rusty’s always prided himself on his cool head. He’s always been the logical one, putting the gears in motion after Danny built the engine. But  _ Jesus, _ the man is standing in front of him with bloodstains on his button-down and a bruise on his face, still smiling like he’s won the lottery, so Rusty does the logical thing and kisses him.

Danny’s lips are slightly chapped, and he’s warm, and one of his hands goes up to grab at Rusty’s neck. Rusty brings one hand up to cup Danny’s face and then he tangles his free hand in Danny’s hair, and he slides his tongue along Danny’s bottom lip. Rusty pulls back for air after a second, his eyes searching Danny’s face. “Is this-”

“Are you kidding?” Danny replies. “It’s-”

Rusty smiles at him. “Great.”

“Yeah. And you-” Danny raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Y’know-”

“Me too.”

“Okay, then-” Danny slings an arm around Rusty’s neck again and pulls him back in.

…

Daniel Ocean is buried on a cold February day. It’s almost perfectly stereotypical- the dreary grayness of the landscape, the rain pitter-pattering down, the fog swirling through the trees- except for a few things. One, the funeral is populated almost exclusively by criminals. Two, almost everything that the partner of the deceased says in the eulogy- he was a good, moral, honest man, he got caught up in bad things and tried to make the best of it, et cetera- is untrue, said for the benefit of the parole officers in attendance. Three, Danny Ocean isn’t in the casket.

Instead, he’s watching from the grove of trees back behind the funeral home as the body of some other random guy from the morgue is interred. It’s not easy to see what’s going on inside, but that’s why he brought binoculars. Tess looks resigned, Debbie looks angry (although that might just be because her parole officer has apparently insisted on being handcuffed together at all times), and Rusty looks like the picture of a man in mourning. Except for the hideous black polyester shirt, which is embroidered with vaguely phallic shapes.

“Did you really have to wear  _ that _ shirt?” Danny asks, as soon as Rusty appears in front of him.

“Did you really have to fake your death?” Rusty asks, lightly bumping Danny’s shoulder with his own. Danny bumps back as they start walking, the remnants of autumn leaves squelching beneath their feet. There’s a loaded pause. “You know what I’m thinking. Don’t make me say it.”

“Can’t a dead man hear some loving words from his partner?” Danny grins, wide and shit-eating. He’s not looking, but he can tell that Rusty’s doing that eye roll/affectionate smile combo thing that sends warmth through his chest every time.

“I’m glad I’m in the know,” Rusty says, like he’s admitting a secret. “Tess and Deb- they didn’t look so happy.”

Guilt momentarily tightens its grip on his heart- not for the first time, and definitely not the last. “You think-”

“It’s safer for everyone this way.”

Danny laughs mirthlessly. “Not for you.”

Rusty turns to him and grins, raising his eyebrows. “When has hanging around with you ever been good for my health?” The trees part to reveal a semi-abandoned parking lot, which a shitty old Trans Am is parked in. “And don’t think you’re driving just because you stole the keys off me.”

Danny pulls the keys out of his pocket and tosses them over the top of the car before sliding into the passenger seat. “You’re no fun.”

Rusty smiles and shrugs, and they drive off in a peaceful silence, Danny’s hand on Rusty’s thigh.

…

**WEDDING #1 - TESS AND ISABEL**

“So,” Rusty says, walking back into the motel room and plopping on the couch, “Tess and Isabel are getting married.”

“Good for them,” Danny says, handing Rusty a piece of pizza. Rusty accepts it gratefully and sticks half the slice into his mouth as Danny continues, “Vegas?”

“Yeah, actually,” Rusty mumbles around his pizza.

“Your place?”

Rusty chews and swallows, and then says “No, because- and I’m directly quoting Isabel- ‘it’s a bit strange to marry your girlfriend in your ex-boyfriend’s hotel, especially when said girlfriend’s ex-husband is  _ your _ ex’s dead partner.’ So. There’s that, apparently.”

Danny snorts. “Apparently.”

Rusty leans back into the cushions, tuning out the TV to drink Danny in. He’s flushed with success- robbing an insufferable prick of an art dealer and fencing the stolen goods, all in one night- and he’s rumpled in such an earnest way that Rusty has the urge to lean over and kiss him stupid, except that Danny’s made a rule that there’s no kissing when anchovy pizza is involved, because he’s lame.

Rusty can almost see the gears whirring in Danny’s head as the History Channel drones on- that channel has always been good to watch, what with its displays of priceless artifacts and all. He watches as Danny runs a hand through his already-fucked-up hair almost subconsciously. He nudges Danny with his foot and then raises his eyebrows.  _ You think we could steal that? _

“Definitely,” Danny says. “But y’know what Reuben says.”

“Satisfaction of knowing the job will work.” Rusty’s never been particularly fond of that one- yes, there  _ is _ satisfaction, but there’s no money in it.

Danny inclines his head.  _ That’s the one. _

Rusty’s always gone along with Danny- who else was going to keep him from dying an untimely death? The fact that he’s always been great company (and a looker) is just a bonus- but he’s a little surprised that he doesn’t find himself wanting to pull the job. Reuben’s goddamn advice is actually working. “God.”

_ “You _ might be getting old. I’m eternally young,” Danny replies. Rusty pokes him with his foot.

…

Danny watches this one from a catering van outside the venue- once again, the binoculars come in handy. Tess and Isabel both look stunning, and as Tess nearly doubles over laughing at something Isabel says, one of his and Tess’s confrontations drift back into his head.  _ Good for you, Tess, _ he thinks, smiling.  _ She makes you laugh and she doesn’t make you cry. _

Rusty’s suit for this is pretty goddamn ostentatious, but at least it doesn’t have dicks on it, and it’s cut in an  _ incredibly _ flattering way, which makes Danny incredibly glad for the binoculars. He’s pretty sure that Rusty eats at least a quarter of the hors d'oeuvres, but he’s also pretty sure that Isabel ordered extra just for Rusty.

Danny still gets some food- Rusty wraps it all in a napkin and stuffs it in the gold-embroidered suit jacket- and it’s delicious. “Wow,” he mutters, taking another bite of the roasted duck skewer, “they know how to pick ‘em.”

Rusty grabs one of the skewers, despite Danny’s scowl. “They sure do.”

…

**WEDDING #2 - DEBBIE AND LOU**

Rusty slides the invitation across the breakfast counter to a bleary Danny. “Mmmfg,” Danny groans through a mouthful of coffee. He really does look tired, so Rusty takes pity on him.

“Invite. Debbie and Lou are getting hitched.”

Danny swallows and then scowls. “I died, like-”

“A year isn’t  _ that _ recently.”

“Still!”

“When it was your ex-wife-”

_ “Still!” _

_ “Still, _ you’re not-”

“Whatever,” Danny says. Rusty grins at him, and then he leans in. Danny bridges the gap, warmth radiating off of him, and Rusty’s hands almost automatically come up to cup Danny’s face. Danny tastes like coffee and toothpaste- not the best combo, but it’s Danny, so Rusty doesn’t really care. After a more-than-pleasant couple of seconds, Rusty pulls back, clutching his prize.

“Thanks,” Rusty says, holding up Danny’s mug of coffee. Danny’s eye roll says  _ asshole, _ but he gamely gets up to pour himself another cup. For Rusty, it’s a win-win- free coffee, and he gets to admire Danny’s ass as he goes. “Wanna be my plus one?”

…

This time, Danny gets to hear the whole ceremony through a mic on Rusty’s suit, which is even worse than the one he wore to Tess and Isabel’s wedding. As the Bridal March plays and Reuben walks Debbie down the aisle, regret and guilt, all swirled into one delicious cocktail, clutch at his heart. He should be there, walking his sister down the aisle. But the Mafia doesn’t exactly forget you stole from them.

Debbie and Lou’s vows interrupt his pity-fest, and they actually make him tear up a little bit. Some girl named Constance is apparently vlogging the whole thing, which amuses Rusty to no end. Rusty comes back to the van with an armload of food, smuggled out in two elaborate gift bags. “How’d you get two?” Danny asks.

Rusty smiles, and it’s tinged with sadness. “They gave me an extra, and they said since I was so sure that you were alive, to give this to you when I saw you next.”

Danny fiddles with his cufflinks. He wants to say so many goddamn things to Rusty, things like  _ How do I fix this _ and  _ I can’t believe you had that much faith in me _ and  _ I love you, _ but he settles for “Bet they didn’t expect that you’d be seeing me tonight,” because he knows Rusty understands everything. He always does.

Rusty leans in and kisses Danny- however brief, it still sends warmth through him, like he’s downed a shot. “They’ll understand,” Rusty says, lips moving a hair’s breadth from Danny’s mouth. “I did.”

…

**WEDDING #3 - SOME ASSHOLE AND SOME OTHER ASSHOLE**

Rusty examines the ring, tilting it so the light catches in different angles. “Wow,” he says.

“Right?” Debbie replies, her grin wide. “That’s straight-up cubic zirconia.”

“That printer of yours is really something.” Rusty sticks the ring back into its box and tucks it into his breast pocket. “All right, I’ll bring your money by on Sunday.”

“Yeah, can you bring those cookies you make?” Debbie asks. “Nine Ball tried them last time and now she can’t stop talking about them. Granted, I think I’ve only talked to her when she’s had the munchies, but still.”

Rusty snorts and hauls himself off the bench. “Yeah, sure.”

“And you’re sure you don’t need any help?” Debbie’s voice has a note of concern in it that Rusty wholly dislikes.

“First of all, it’s literally only a two-man job. Second, I’m not eighty,” Rusty says. “And I’ve taken good care of myself.”

“Whatever. You’re still middle-aged,” Debbie replies.

Rusty shoots her an unamused glare. “You’re no spring chicken yourself.”

“Fine. But- well, it’s your first job without him, so if you need any backup-”

“Nope,” Rusty says, popping the ‘p.’ Unbeknownst to Debbie, Danny is the second man on the job, but even the thought of doing a job without him is enough to make Rusty’s stomach turn. “Thanks for the ring, though.”

Debbie studies him, the same way that her brother studies a mark. “Okay,” she says eventually. “See ya, Russ.”

…

“Are you proposing to me?” Danny deadpans as Rusty opens the ring box. It’s a nice ring, if a bit gaudy, and it’s impossible to tell that it’s a fake with the naked eye- the zirconia glints just like diamond. Swapping it for the real ring en route to the wedding shouldn’t be hard at all.

“Yes,” Rusty replies, his voice equally dry. “Danny Ocean, even though you’re legally dead, will you marry me?”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe this is happening,” Danny says in a monotone voice. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.”

Rusty snorts and chucks the ring box at him. Danny puts the fake back into its rightful place, and then he turns back to Rusty.

“Oh my God,” Danny repeats, the pieces clicking together. “You think we should-”

“I mean, you’re legally dead and all, but I’m not planning on leaving you.” Behind Rusty’s usually effortless cool, Danny can spot apprehension, and it makes his heart do a funny little flip.

“Please. You couldn’t if you tried.”

“So you’re saying you won’t go breaking my heart?” Rusty asks with a small grin.

“I’m saying we should. And it’s been over a year. I figure-”

Rusty tilts his head. “They’ll be pissed.”

“Understandably so. But, y’know.”  _ I want to marry you even though I’m legally dead. _

Rusty’s blue-green eyes crinkle, and he says, “I believe that’s called  _ having your cake and eating it too.” _

“Says who?” Danny replies, grinning back. He leans towards Rusty, and then- “Shit!”

“Wh- oh, shit!” Rusty says. “Shit! Gimme the ring-”

“It’s in your breast pocket,” Danny says, winking as Rusty yanks on his fake security guard jacket. He pulls Rusty in for a quick kiss. “Go get ‘em, cowboy.”

…

**WEDDING #4 - DANNY AND RUSTY**

Danny is sort of wishing that he’d stayed in the Trans Am and let Rusty smooth everything over before he showed his face.  _ There’s still time, _ he muses. He could make a break for it, and leave Rusty on the front step to fend for himself.

He can feel Rusty’s glare on him as soon as he finishes his thought. And then the door opens, sealing off any hope of escape. As soon as his sister sees him, some unseen force pokes holes in her neutral expression- the muscle in her jaw clenches, her eyebrows raise by a millimeter, her nostrils flare the tiniest amount.

“Oh my  _ God,” _ Debbie says.

Danny grins at her. “Miss me?”

Of course, she’s an Ocean, so nothing in her facial expression prepares him for her sudden, painful punch to his shoulder, but he supposes that he deserves it. “You  _ jackass.” _ She turns her sights on Rusty, who’s suddenly looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “And you  _ knew? _ You said you were 95% sure-”

“He showed up after you called me, Deb,” Rusty says, his voice placating. Danny would laugh, but his shoulder is still aching. He’s pretty sure it’s gonna bruise.

Debbie retains her murderous glare for a second, and then she throws her arms around Danny. He hugs her back, and if they both sniffle for a few seconds, well, nobody’s gonna say anything. When Debbie pulls away, her eyes are strangely wet. “Aww, are you crying?” Danny teases.

“Don’t push it, asshole. And come in.”

Danny steps in, casting his glance around. It’s a  _ really _ nice house, with marble and wood combining to make a strangely elegant setting. Lou is passed out on the couch, a blanket tucked over her. A huge, 80-inch TV, which is hung over an equally huge fireplace, displays a paused scene from some show in extreme hi-def. There’s an extremely well-stocked bar cart in one corner of the room. “Nice digs.”

“You don’t get to comment on the  _ ‘digs,’” _ Debbie replies.

“You don’t get to comment on the digs, Danny,” Rusty repeats, shooting a faux-reproachful look at him. Danny narrows his eyes at Rusty.

“You made me think you were dead for over a  _ year.” _

“Look, I stole something that I shouldn’t have. It was the only way to lie low.”

Debbie laughs humorlessly as she pours herself a drink. “You always steal the wrong thing.” She tosses the amber liquid down her gullet.

“Speaking of stealing…” Danny trails off, grinning, as Debbie holds up one hand in a  _ shut up _ gesture and uses the other to pour and down another drink. Finally, she lowers her hands to her sides, which Danny takes as permission to continue. “I heard that  _ someone _ robbed the Met Gala.”

“It was pretty great,” Deb admits grudgingly. Danny cocks an eyebrow at her, and she breaks out into a barely restrained grin. “Okay, it was  _ awesome. _ I mean, it went off without a hitch. And-”

A loud groan from Lou interrupts them. “Fuck, I need coffee,” she says, eyes still clamped shut.

Fondness takes over Debbie’s face for a second. Danny desperately hopes that he hasn’t looked at Rusty like that through all these years, and then he realizes that of  _ course _ he has, and then he wonders why the fuck nobody told him. Debbie says, “It’s on the table next to you,” and Danny’s attention is pulled back to the present, where Rusty is half-smiling at him.

“I  _ love _ you,” Lou says. Her eyes are  _ still _ closed.  _ Must be one hell of a hangover. _

Debbie grins at her. “That’s why you married me.”

“Hi, Lou,” Rusty adds.

“Hi, Lou,” Danny repeats around his shit-eating grin.

Lou’s hand, on the way to the mug, freezes. Her eyes slowly open.  _ “You… _ are not dead.”

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p,’ and Rusty elbows him. “Just lying low.”

“Shitty way to go about it, really,” Lou tells him, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Why are you here?”

He supposes he deserves that. “Deb, you’re ordained, right?”

“Yeah, why-” She cocks her head at the two of them. “You’re doing the marriage thing? Danny, you’re legally dead.”

Danny can’t put it into words, exactly. He’s always been a smooth talker, but all he can think of is that most everything in his life right now is a con, but not this. “I know.”

“Look,” Rusty says, his near-discomfort evident only to Danny, “everything that we’ve been doing for the last three decades has been fake, so I think it’d be nice to do something for real.”

Danny takes a second to just stare at him in amazement. “Aw, Rus, that was beautiful,” he says, sincerity buried under the mocking tone. Rusty elbows him again, and he doesn’t even feel the twinge- all he can feel is the strange racing of his heart, like a bird finally free of its cage.

“I’ll do it,” Debbie says, the picture of a long-suffering sister, “if you two stop being gross in my living room.”

“Yes, please,” Lou tacks on.

“Okay. Lay it on us,” Danny says.

“What, right now?” Debbie asks.

“Nothing’s gonna get more attention than a  _ wedding,” _ Danny tells her. “Word gets out.”

Debbie, bless her, wipes the confused expression off her face almost immediately. “Okay. Well. Uh, do you, Daniel Ocean-”

“I do.”

“And do you-”

Danny knows that Rusty knows what’s coming, and he watches as Rusty’s face sinks.  _ “Don’t-” _

_ “Robert _ Charles Ryan,” Debbie continues (and Danny’s never been more unsettled than when he sees his own smug grin on his baby sister’s face), “take this man-”

“Yep,” Rusty says, momentarily over the slight.

“Well, by the power vested in me, you’re married.”

“Please don’t do a disgustingly long kiss, I don’t think I can keep from vomiting,” Lou adds.

_ We’re married, _ Danny thinks. His heart is soaring, as if he hadn’t made one comparison to a bird already. He catches Rusty’s grin, catches the meaning behind it too, and he meets Rusty halfway in a soft embrace, feeling the smile pressed to his mouth. Out of consideration for his sister and Lou, he pulls back after a few seconds, a little dazed. “I can’t believe-”

“Yeah, but it was nice,” Rusty says, grin unwavering. The sparkle in his eyes tells Danny,  _ that’s all that matters, isn’t it? _ and Danny couldn’t agree more.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! PLEASE come scream at me about ocean's eleven on tumblr (my url is the same as my ao3) because i am starved for content. kudos/comments/criticism always appreciated!


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